Page 37 of Kicking it with my Best Friend

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking.”

Faith bit her bottom lip and thought for a second. “Oh, I know! You have all week. Why don’t you go to his place tonight and surprise him? You can settle in, watch a sexy movie, and then get down to business.”

I rolled my eyes, but her idea wasn’t half bad. “I think I can manage that.”

She nodded once. “Good. It’s settled then. You’re going to lose your virginity tonight.”

“God, when you say it like that…”

“It sounds awesome?”

I shook my head. “It sounds ridiculous. Like a high school movie or something.”

“I—”

Before she could speak her next thought, a knock on my door startled us both. “Come in,” I called.

Gavin, one of the junior rangers, opened the door, eyes wide and breathing hard.

“You okay, Gav?”

He shook his head. “Black bear sighted near the entrance of the campground. It was digging through trash and trying to enter vehicles.”

“Goddammit,” I muttered. I looked at Faith and her eyes were wide, too.

“Arthur?” Faith asked. Arthur was a young bear that had become increasingly dangerous to humans as he’d started wandering into the campsites. Usually, our bears stayed far away from the populated areas, but not Arthur. He was as fascinated by humans as we were by him—to everyone’s risk, unfortunately. Our area wasn’t known for bears the way the Smokies were. In fact, we rarely spotted bears in our more suburban setting. That didn’t make Arthur any less dangerous, though.

“Probably.” I stood and pushed my chair in. Adrenaline pumped through me as I sprang into action. “Faith, you hold down the fort here. Don’t let any of the guests leave until you get my call. And alert the gates—they can’t let anyone in until we’re in the clear and Arthur is on the road. Gavin, we’ll take the big truck. Call Dr. Mason. He’ll need to be tranquilized and relocated. Honestly, this has happened two other times—I think our best bet is to have him moved to a zoo at this point.”

Gavin nodded. “I’ve already put in a call to the doctor and he’s on his way.” Dr. Mason was the local vet who served wildlife and worked with rescues and rehabilitation centers. He would be our best bet for getting Arthur sedated and moved quickly.

My heart pounded, and I rushed out of my office, grabbing my shotgun from the rack on the wall, along with a case of scare cartridges, just in case Arthur needed to be guided away from the campsites. From there, we rushed out of the visitor center and raced to the truck, hauling ass toward the campground, me in the passenger seat with my shotgun on my lap.

The campground had been cleared of guests by the time we’d arrived. There had only been three families camping that day, and only one family had been on site when Arthur had lumbered up looking for food.

From the parking lot, I leaned out the window of the truck and started shouting. “Bear! Hey bear! Get away, bear!”

Arthur looked up from the trash can he’d been rummaging through, a paper wrapper stuck on his head. He looked mildly interested in me until Gavin honked the horn of the truck, two loud beeps in rapid succession.

“Get out of here, bear!” I called.

Arthur meandered toward the nearest tent, leaving the trash can behind reluctantly. A moment later, another truck pulled up beside ours. Dr. Mason nodded to us from the passenger seat, tranquilizer gun in hand. The truck rolled closer to Arthur, who hardly cared, moving until it was in close range. Dr. Mason lifted his gun, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger, darting Arthur square in the shoulder.

Arthur let out a confused, angry roar and spun to search for his attacker. He let out a soft moan and shook his fur, trying to loosen the dart from his skin, but it held fast. We all waited and watched for what felt like impossibly long minutes until Arthur began to stumble and stagger around the campsite, shaking his head like he needed to clear away a fog of confusion. Eventually, he toppled sideways and landed on the ground, a soft plume of dust rising from where he fell.

I looked to Dr. Mason, who held up his hand in a gesture that clearly meant “wait.” None of us moved for another minute or two until Dr. Mason seemed certain that Arthur was down for the count. He nodded at us when he was sure.

“Okay, let’s go.”

We worked together to get Arthur on a burlap sheet and drag him to the doctor’s truck. On the back of the truck was a large, bear-safe crate, and with a little teamwork and the ramp Dr. Mason had brought, we got Arthur up and into the crate.

When he was securely in the crate, still snoozing away, I brushed my hands off and looked at the doctor. “Thanks, Dr. Mason. We really appreciate your getting here so quickly.”

“Not a problem. That’s what I’m here for.”

“What’s going to happen to Arthur?” Gavin asked.

Dr. Mason exhaled slowly. “We have a few options. First, I’m going to take him to the wildlife rehab center. There’s a large, bear-safe outdoor habitat there for him, and we’ll observe him for a few days while we work to make arrangements, get him some medical care, that sort of thing. In the meantime, we’ll reach out to zoos and see if anyone wants a young adult black bear. I’d estimate he’s about two or three years old, based on size alone. He’s not too old to be relocated, so we may take him to another park instead. A lot of it depends on his health and what we observe in the center.”

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